Zootopia: Shadows Prologue
by Fleetlord Avatar
Summary: ONE SHOT-Nick Wilde met someone the night of Ranger Scout meeting. A Shadow that made him realise he didn't have to be scared of mammals, when he could be the one scaring them.
1. Chapter 1

**Remember the mad idea that created Zootopia: Lightning? Well, here's another one that might get off the ground, tell me what you think. I'm a big fan of The Shadow and this one just wouldn't leave me alone.**

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The fleeing fox kit burst through the doors of 2389 Sahara Central, sheer terror on his face. Dashing down the stairs, he hid by the side of the building, flattening himself against the wall in fear.

The frightened kit was about eight years old, he wore the uniform of the Junior Ranger Scouts, specifically troop 914, whom he was supposed to be initiated into that night. He had arrived full of energy and confidence at the prospect of being part of a pack.

But things had gone so very wrong.

The 'initiation' was instead a cruel prank by the other rangers. They shoved him to ground, held him down and forced a muzzle onto him, laughing and jeering as he lay there, frozen in confusion and fear.

He scrabble at the muzzle that was pulled tight around his face, angrily throwing it into the darkness before breaking down in sobs. He fell back against the stairs, sliding down to the ground and hugging his knees as the tears ran freely down his face.

It started to rain, fat, heavy droplets that splattered onto his fur and ran down his neck, soaking the new uniform his mother had worked hard for them to afford. He didn't even move, he didn't care anymore, those other cubs had ruined his dreams, they had shown him what mammals really thought of foxes.

He barely heard the 'clink' of something hitting the muzzle. Peering between his knees, he saw a pair of formal black shoes, shined to perfection, and a pair of black pants that stretched up out of his field of vision, but he knew it was another fox when he saw the mammals bushy tail, red furred and perfectly groomed.

He watched as the fox knelt and picked up the muzzle in one hand, the rest of his clothes were equally formal, a black suit jacket and white shirt with a long black coat. His other hand held an umbrella, also black, and he wore wide brimmed fedora. He wore a red scarf that his most of his features, but it didn't hide the sharp, angular muzzle beneath.

The fox looked at the muzzle, turning it over methodically in his paw, then he turned towards the kit, who buried his face in his knees once again, continuing to sob.

There were footsteps, and the rain stopped, at least on him. Looking through his knees again, the kit saw the other fox kneeling down in front of him, the umbrella sheltering them both from the rain.

"What's your name?" he asked, in a gravelly voice.

"N..Ni...Nicholas Wilde," he sobbed.

The other fox was silent, then Nick saw he still had the muzzle in his other paw. He recoiled in fear, expecting him to force it back onto him. Instead, the fox tossed it away with a low growl.

"What happened?"

"T...th..they said it was initiation...b...but they just...they just..."

He let out a wail and threw himself onto the stranger, wrapping his arms around him as he bawled his eyes out. He felt the other fox lay a paw protective over him, gently rubbing it down his back as he cried.

Eventually, he was calm enough to tell the suited fox everything, he remained silent throughout the story, patiently listening to the sorry tale, but Nick thought he saw the shadows around his face deepen as he got to the part where he had been muzzled. As he finished, he saw the shadows had become so deep that it was like looking into a void that somehow stared right back, and into his very soul.

As he finished, the stranger silently offered him the umbrella. He cautiously took it, as the unknown fox stood up, turned, and strode straight up the stairs towards the building.

"Hey!" Nick called out, causing the fox to pause, one paw on the door handle.

"What are you going to do?" he asked, nervously. He didn't want to make what happened even worse by brining a grown up into it.

"I'm going to give them a taste of their own medicine," he growled.

Before Nick could stop him, the stranger pushed open the door and disappeared inside. For a while there was nothing, just the pitter patter of rain on the umbrella as he watched the door. Curiosity taking hold, the kit pattered up to the door and peered through the glass front to try and see if anything had happened.

A sharp cackle suddenly broke the silence and Nick leapt back from the door in fright. Fleeing back to the side of the staircase, he shook as the cackle erupted from within once more, this time followed by several, high pitched screams.

The more listened, the more that Nick felt the harsh, unnatural laughter echo through his very soul, grating and gouging up every fear, every phobia the fox had ever had. His ears pressed flat against his skull as he fell back against the building wall, shutting his eyes in terror as the laughter continued.  
The crash of doors snapped him back to reality, opening his eyes the kit had time to see the group of ranger scouts scramble out the building and fall over one another down the stairs. They never saw him as they turned and stared, eyes wide in terror, at the other fox as he descended the stairs.  
The shadows closed in around them as he slowly approached the cowering cubs, his arms spread wide as the darkness wrapped itself around him like a cloak, the only colour was the long crimson scarf that hung around him like a bloodied noose.

He threw his head back and laughed that awful laugh, earning a few more shrieks from the Junior Rangers, even Nick struggled to keep silent. The zebra and antelope held each other in fright and the fox kit saw tears streaming down the face of the woodchuck even as the hippo's mouth babbled incoherent words of fear.

"Think on what you have seen tonight," growled the fox, his voice echoing like a vengeful wrath. "Because as you sow evil, you will reap evil! And I will know! I will always know!"

With a final, terrible cackle, he lunged at the cubs, who scrambled to their feet and took off screaming into the night.

As they fled, the shadows departed, the rain stopped and the night seemed to brighten as the fox turned to the young Nicholas Wilde.

"They won't bother you, or any other mammal again," he said.

"Th...thank you," replied Nick, nervously. "What was that?"

"That," replied the stranger, gently taking his umbrella from Nick. "Was something I learned to do after some mammals like them did something to me. I was afraid and upset, like you, then someone showed me how to fight back, and now, bad mammals run from me."

He placed a paw on the young fox's shoulder.

"I could show you. Teach you to not be afraid of mammals like them, teach you how to make them scared."

Nick looked at the stranger, then past him where the terrified scouts had fled. He thought about how he felt when they held him down and forced the muzzle over his head. The fear and helplessness that drove him to tears, all because he was a fox. His paws balled into fists as he thought about the unfairness of it all, about how he had been judged on his species and not who he was as a person. It ignited a rage deep within his young soul.

He didn't want to be afraid of other mammals, he wanted them to be afraid of him.

The kit nodded to the other fox, who smiled underneath his scarf. Standing, he offered his paw to Nick, who took it without hesitation.

"Hey mister," he asked. "What's your name?"

"My name is...unimportant," replied the fox, hailing a taxi.

"To most, I'm just a Shadow."


	2. Chapter 2

"Where to, Mr C?" enquired the cab driving weasel.

The strange fox, Mr C, looked down at Nick as they climbed into the back of the vehicle.

"Uhhh...8 Winchfield Road, it's in the Sherwood District, on the edge of Happy Town."

"I know just the place," replied the weasel. "Strap in you two."

The cabbie slid his vehicle into gear and drove on, wipers sliding across his windscreen as the rain intensified.

Nick sat in silence next to Mr C, paws in his lap, the kit's rage simmering beneath the surface, though it was tinged with a little curiosity. His young mind wondering how Mr C could help him make others scared? Would he show him what he had done to the ranger scouts? How to do it?

He was jostled from his thoughts when something was placed into his paws. His Scout hat, lost when the other scouts had pulled the muzzle over his head.

The kit looked up at Mr C, the adult fox staring impassively forwards, following the adults gaze, he caught the eye of the weasel in the drivers mirror.

"Rough night kid?" he asked.

"I don't wanna talk about it," huffed Nick, face falling, ears flat against his skull.

"He's had an unfortunate realisation about society Moe," stated the adult fox. "I'm taking him home."

"Ah, say no more Mr C. Mammals can be cruel."

"...yeah...they can," mumbled Nick, trying to quash the fresh wave of tears that threatened to burst forward, only to feel a paw on his shoulder.

He looked up at Mr C. A Shadow, that's what he had called himself. It was an appropriate name, even in the car the darkness clung to him, concealing his features from view while his red scarf stood out above all else.

"What I did to those cubs tonight should ensure they do not become worse," He stated. "But it doesn't change what they did to you, what they likely did to others like you."

Nick felt his heart sink, it had never occurred to him there could have been others. Other foxes, other predators, that those mean cubs put through the same treatment. The more he thought about it, the angrier he got, his tiny paws clenching into fists around his crumpled cap, his muzzle twisting into a silent snarl.

"Do not lose yourself to that anger," the Shadow's voice cut through the red mist that fell over the kit's vision. "I will show you how to control, redirect, and ultimately use it against those who would hurt mammals."

The little fox nodded, he was angry, he wanted to scare the mammals that hurt him, that hurt those other mammals.

The taxi slowed, Nick looked up as it came to a complete stop, his house visible through the rain slicked window. The semi-detached building had a light on in the living room, meaning his mum was still up, likely waiting for her son's triumphant return from his first Junior Ranger Scout meeting.

The anger fizzled at the thought of disappointing his parent.

Mr C paid the weasel and they climbed out, the tod opening his umbrella once again to keep them dry.

"Hey kid!"

Nick looked back at the weasel as he leant out of the cab window.

"If you ever need a cabbie, call Moe Shrevnitz, thats me."

He flicked a card at Nick from between his fingers, the kit catching it instinctively.

"Nice reflexes, I'll be seeing you."

With a tip of his cap, the mustelid drove away.

Nick studied the card, it was plain white with a cab company logo and Moe's number on it. He pocketed it for later before turning to face his house. His anger had not returned, instead he felt sadness welling up again at the thought of disappointing his mother, he unconsciously hugged the leg of Mr C, who looked down at the child's touch.

"You have not failed her," he stated. "It was society that failed you."

He gently took Nick's paw and helped him to the front door, knocking sharply on the faded wood. A moment later, the door was opened by Victoria Wilde. The middle aged vixen was wearing the same purple dress she'd had on when he left that evening, her brush swishing behind her as he took in the well dressed tod before her.

"Can I help you?" she asked.

"I'm afraid not," replied Mr C. "Miss, I'm afraid there was an incident, with your son."

He shifted his body so Victoria could see Nick, the vixens eyes went wide at the sight of him in his scuffed scout uniform, crumpled cap in hand and matted fur down his muzzle, He was peering nervously around Mr C's leg, and she could see his eyes shining with more tears.

"The other scouts assaulted him with a muzzle," continued Mr C. "I found him by the building stairs."

He produced the offending item from his coat and showed it to Victoria, Nick whimpering at the reminder of recent events while his mother's eyes widened in shock and fright.

"Oh, Nicky" gasped Victoria.

"I'm sorry mummy," sobbed the kit, inching towards her. "I thought...I thought I could be...a sc-scout...b-but they...they..."

He couldn't finish the sentence before he broke down in tears, his mother scooping him up into her arms and holding him tight.

"Shhh...shhhh...Nick, oh Nick," lamented Victoria as she held her sobbing cub, Mr C standing silently to one side as the pair wept.

Eventually, Nick had cried all the tears he could, the cub falling into a fitful sleep in the comforting arms of his mother.

"Thank you," she sniffed. "You brought him back safely, I don't even know your name."

"Most don't," stated Mr C. "Understand this, what happened tonight will leave a scar on your son. He's seen the true face of society, what mammals think, not just of foxes, but of all predators."

"...I know...I'd hoped...wanted, to keep it from him for just a bit longer, he should have had longer to enjoy being a child," she sighed sadly, before her face twisted into a snarl. "I swear, if I ever see the kits that did this I'll wring their necks."

"I've already taken care of them," he replied. "Should they return to their ways I will pay them another visit, one with a harsher penalty."

"Good," accepted Victoria. "Cubs like that need to see there are consequences to their actions. But I just...can't help thinking that Nick could be hurt again, maybe worse next time."

"He won't," stated Mr C, she looked at him confused etched on her features. "I asked if he wanted help, if he wanted to make bad mammals afraid of him, instead of the other way around."

The vixen frowned, the tod continued.

"I see you doubt my intentions, know that I do not need your approval, he doesn't want to be afraid and I agreed to help him. If I don't, then he will be unprepared for far worse cruelty."

He pulled down the red scarf, and Victoria gasped.

The tods muzzle was normal until about halfway down, then the fur gave way to bare flesh, exposed teeth and angry scar tissue. His nose looked like it had been broken and reset, while his lower jaw was nothing but heavily scarred skin right up to his throat.

"I was not much older than him," he continued, replacing the scarf. "Unprepared for the harsh nature of society. What happened to me was also a crime of hate, and like him I was found by another, a fox who knew the true face of this world, and wanted to help, as I do."

Victoria looked at the sleeping kit in her arms, her child, her beautiful son who had just been tortured in the worst way by cubs his own age. He whimpered and grasped her dress as hard as he could, tormented by visions of those he thought could be his friends.

She couldn't help but imagine what could have happened, it could have been something much worse, something like what happened to this tod on her doorstep, the one who had brought her son home.

Foxes were always being targeted by prey for any number of reasons, even just looking at them sometimes. She would have gone with him, but Nick had convinced her he was big enough to go to the meeting by himself...he had looked so happy when she agreed, trusting her son to stay safe...but now, now she knew how vulnerable he really was.

"Alright," she answered. "Help my son, teach him to protect himself, but I won't be leaving him in the care of a stranger."

She drew herself to her full height and looked him in the eye, staring him down with the type of force only a mother whose child had been hurt was capable of.

"What is your name?"

The stranger was silent for a moment, the sound of rain beating against his umbrella filling the tension between the two foxes, then he raised a paw and offered it to the vixen.

"Lamont Cranston."

She took it and shook, firmly.

"Victoria Wilde."

"A pleasure, bring Nick to the address on my card in two days, I will show you both what I've got in mind."

Feeling something in her paw, Victoria looked down and saw a black business card with a single line of text in scarlet. She went to thank Lamont, but as she looked up the vixen was taken aback to see he had vanished. Confused, she peered out into the night and looked up and down the street, but even her species' natural night vision saw no trace of the tod.

With one last look at the card, she retreated inside, but before the door closed she could have sworn that the shadows seemed to linger just a moment longer than usual.


End file.
